


The Colors of Bruises

by A_Butter_Churner



Category: Dear Evan Hansen - Pasek & Paul/Levenson
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Broken Boys, Colors, Connor likes black, Evan likes blue, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, I'm Bad At Tagging, M/M, Maybe - Freeform, My First AO3 Post, Please Don't Hate Me, Some Cursing, Treebros
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-16
Updated: 2020-04-16
Packaged: 2021-03-01 20:00:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,067
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23682805
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/A_Butter_Churner/pseuds/A_Butter_Churner
Summary: Connor's favorite color was black for the longest time. With black, your hopes don't get raised, but you don't get bashed either.Then he meets Evan Hansen, and well, maybe a little blue is starting to show up in his life.Black and blue, the colors of bruises. Who would've thought?
Relationships: Evan Hansen/Connor Murphy
Comments: 16
Kudos: 157





	The Colors of Bruises

**Author's Note:**

> Heyyyyyyy! I have been ITCHING to make and AO3 account for who knows how long but never got around to doing it but I'm HERE NOW.
> 
> Apologies in advance because my stinky works will be polluting your fandoms. RUN WHILE YOU STILL CAN.
> 
> Anywho, I hope this brings a smile to your face while you are stuck in quarantine pulling your hair out and listening to DEH on repeat. (I see you out there).
> 
> Well, enjoy!
> 
> <3 Jas

Connor’s favorite color was black. _Gee, what a shocker considering all he wears is black jeans, black hoodies, fucking black boots._

Yeah, Connor could count on one hand the amount of people who didn’t see that coming, but he wonders if they know why. Why, out of all the colors, he liked black best.

It wasn’t because he was trying to be Goth or emo, “the resident Hot Topic” as Kleinman would call it. It definitely wasn’t because he was trying to be different or unique or shit like that. Zoe did have her “I’m Not Like Other Girls” phase where she snuck into his room and stole his black nail polish and drew some creepy ass patterns under her eyes with Cynthia’s eyeliner and tried to convince Larry to let her get a tattoo on her forehead. Every time Connor thinks about it he actually shudders.

He didn’t like black because he was trying to be rebellious and it was just one more thing he could do to drive Larry up the wall, although he had to admit that was a perk.

No, that wasn’t the reason he liked black. Connor liked black, because black was constant. There were no shades, no tints, and no variations. Black was settling, comforting. Something to dive into, to bask in. It’s not particularly pretty, but it’s enough. It seeps into one’s skin with thin tendrils of shadow, murmuring a soft lullaby. Black doesn’t lie, like yellow. It doesn’t tell you that you are going to have a great day only to let you down a few moments later. Black doesn’t patronize, like red. Doesn’t curse you for not feeling wonderful every fucking second of every fucking day. Black doesn’t remind you of what you have, like green. Doesn’t force you to remember that you are lucky to have a home, and food, and a family. And money. Black doesn’t make you feel guilty or ashamed. Black just embraces you silently, it makes only one promise: that it will be there.

But recently, Connor’s preference has been changing. Black seems like a haunting reminder of who he once was, of someone who hurt people and threw printers and didn’t deserve to be alive. No, Connor is shying away from the color which had given him so much comfort and had been there for him in times of hurting, for something new.

Something better.

Something only Evan Hansen could bring him.

He knew, locking eyes with the quiet boy who fidgeted with the hem of his shirt and wore a smile that was so forced, but so pure and lovely, that something was stirring inside him. Not anger though. It had been so long since Connor had felt a different beast inside him than unquenchable rage. So long, he had forgotten what it had felt like.

Connor remembers the first time he had spoken to the boy like it was his only memory.

“Hey,” he’d said, hands stuffed the pockets of his hoodie, a hoodie he’d always felt safe wearing, but was slowly growing clammier in.

“Uh, m-me?” Evan’s eyes had grown wide, darting around the hallway. “I mean, h-hey C-C-Connor. Or, um, you. Or, um, I mean…”

And Connor had laughed. He had just laughed. It wasn’t even a giggle or a manly chuckle at best, it was a throaty guffaw that probably sent spit flying all over Evan.

But Evan had smiled, a different one this time. One that was so subtle, so perfect, and _real._ Connor Murphy had made Evan Hansen _really smile._

That moment warmed Connor up from the tips of his ears down to his toes for good.

“M’sorry.” Evan had mumbled, his face flushing crimson. 

Connor just drew in a sharp breath and said something stupid like, “No, it’s cute.”

But there was that smile again. That adorable smile tinged with hope and livelihood. Fuck, he loved that smile.

When he returned home, Connor ended up ordering a blue t-shirt. No one would see it under his hoodies, but it was a drop of light amidst the mounds of darkness in his closet. Connor was changing.

Another day Connor would forever remember, was the day he had kissed Evan Hansen for the first time.

The two of them were lying together, side by side on the grass while Evan pointed out different trees and described the differences between them and recited their scientific names and all Connor could do, was watch him grow more and more animated and smile.

“Am I boring you?” Evan had whispered then.

Connor bit his lower lip. Evan looked wistful, withdrawn, and the smile Connor had fallen in love with over and over again was gone.

_Come back._

So Connor stopped thinking. Connor stopped thinking and instead cupped Evan’s cheek in his palm and murmured, “Of course not.”

And then he closed the distance between them two with a soft, caring promise sealed between their two lips.

When Connor painted his nails that night, he painted his toes blue, like Evan’s polo. No one would see it, no one would know. It was his little secret.

Yes, Connor is changed and he knows why.

Because his favorite color isn’t black anymore.

Because blue is so much better. It doesn’t hurt, it doesn’t cut, it doesn’t bleed. It doesn’t make too many promises it can’t keep. It doesn’t pretend to wash away pain in a wave of apathy. But it hopes. It hopes that small miracles can happen each day, and that things can slowly get better. It makes tiny wishes that when these miracles happen, someone will be there to share them with.

Someone sweet and imperfect. Someone to nurture, to treasure, and to cherish. Someone loyal to a fault. Someone like Evan.

Connor stopped wearing black a lot after he and Evan started dating, because there was no need for the apathetic comfort it brought.

And Connor was happy. Not ignorant and high, not shaking with fury, but really truly _happy._

When Connor told Evan this, the anxious boy said, “Black and blue, huh? The colors of bruises.”

That thought had never crossed Connor’s mind, but it was true.

Black and blue, Connor and Evan. The colors of bruises, two broken boys. But bruises fade and broken things get mended, eventually.

And Connor was okay with that. Really, _truly,_ okay.

Because Connor’s favorite color is blue, _what a shocker._

**Author's Note:**

> Well, hope you enjoyed!
> 
> Please comment or kudo or anything, it means so much to me :).
> 
> This is a standalone fic, but I was thinking of cooking up some Treebros oneshots, OR doing a Hamilton/Les Mis crossover featuring Lams and Enjoltaire ;) (and Gavroche of course)
> 
> Let me know if you'll be interested in that.
> 
> K, byeeeeee
> 
> Jas
> 
> PS if you liked this PLEASE check out my new story, War Drums Beat for Worse Things. It's a Les Mis Hunger Games AU and tell me what you think via kudos or comments. Thank you for reading!


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